


On Patterns of Human Behavior as Observed by an Angel and a Demon

by shouldbeover



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Human Behavior, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Old Married Couple, Philosophy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 05:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20371606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shouldbeover/pseuds/shouldbeover
Summary: First of a possible series of vignettes where Aziraphale and Crowley just talk about how humans behave and why.





	On Patterns of Human Behavior as Observed by an Angel and a Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Started with the image of Crowley as the Hanged Man, and went from there. That and the fact I own about 10 Tarot decks, purely for the art.

Aziraphale reached out and stroked his fingers lightly along Crowley’s calf. Crowley was on his stomach, head at the foot of the bed, one foot on the pillow. The other foot was crossed over the back of his knee, his legs making the shape of a four. Sometimes he would twist himself around like this in his sleep, and Aziraphale would wake and reach over in the morning, only to find himself looking at Crowley’s long toes. This time, well, let’s just say that their activities had lent themselves to being head to foot.

“You look like the Hanged Man like this. Was using a Tarot deck for divination one of yours, my dear? It seems like it would be one of yours.”

“Mmm? Oh, yes. Great fun telling them they could tell their futures from a pack of playing cards. Throw in some silly fake Egyptian mythology, Bob’s your uncle. Didn’t really think it would become quite so popular.”

“I used to enjoy a good game of Tarocchini in Italy. Pity no one plays it in England. I have a Thoth Tarot from Aleister, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Crowley muttered, “Bloody Aleister.”

“Don’t be jealous, my love. I certainly wouldn’t have been interested in Aleister. And remember, you were asleep when I knew all of that set.”

“Not jealous,” Crowley mumbled. He rolled over on his side so he could look at Aziraphale properly. “Just, just Crowley! Of all things. People think I’ve named myself after him, can you imagine!”  
  
“Well, I certainly know better, dearest. Aleister was quite horrid. And you are—”

“Don’t say it, Angel!”

“—far sexier,” Aziraphale finished with a smirk.

Aziraphale had about fifty packs of Tarot decks, from delicately hand painted ones, almost too fragile to touch made to simply play the card game, to the standard Rider-Waite, to the Thoth, to all sorts of modern versions.

“You know, they put all sorts of things on them now. I’ve seen ones with cleverly drawn little dogs. And…” he paused, “Erotic ones.”

Crowely’s eyebrows went impossibly higher, and he smirked. “Really? We could have some fun with those.”

“Don’t be impertinent!”

“Impertinent?” He waved between their naked bodies as if to say that they were far beyond impertinent.

Aziraphale blushed. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“It would be like…making love because one of my books of prophesy told us to.”

Crowley smiled again, more tenderly. “I suppose so, in a way. But we know the only accurate one went up in smoke. I’m not saying we should do a layout and do what it says, just…are the pictures good?”

“I suppose so. If you like that sort of thing. And anyway, I don’t have that one. Did you have anything to do with the I Ching?”

Crowley flopped onto his back. "I don’t think so. I mean, I did go to China. After the whole…” he waved his hand. Even after all these years, he still couldn’t talk about the flood.

Aziraphale stroked his leg again, soothingly.

“They’d been doing bones already, by then. So, no. Definitely not,” Crowley answered at last.

“Humans want to know their futures so badly, don’t they?” he went on. "Every culture, trying to find a way to predict things.”

“Hmm, I suppose because they have such a short time. They want to…don’t want to waste any time. If they can figure out what will work in advance, so they don’t make the wrong choice,” Aziraphale said, thoughtfully.

“It’s like the mysticism. Crowley, his lot, old Conan Doyle trying to know what’s beyond the veil.” Crowley waved his hands in the air somehow signifying the great mysteries of beyond.

“We know, though, don’t we? Sometimes I wish…we could tell them. God is real. Some will go to heaven, some to hell.”

“Would that really be wise?”

“Well, they might to change their behavior. Try to avoid your lot.” Aziraphale was doing much better, but occasionally, that little hint of priggish, self-righteousness sneaked back in.

“I’d get in real trouble for that—our little switcheroo wouldn’t put that off. You’re side either, for that matter. And it would take away their choice. MAKE them do things, instead of stumbling along and discovering along the way. It might prevent some terrible things, but cause others. And we might lose discoveries, art, literature, all the good things. Look at poor Book Girl's family!”

“You’re right, of course. You really are smarter than I am in so many ways,” Aziraphale said, real admiration in his voice.

“Angel—”

“No, you are. You know how they ARE. I just…I suppose I just know how they want to be, and I keep myself to that. Perhaps…”

“Perhaps what?”

“Perhaps that’s why she stopped getting involved. Stopped talking to them individually. Let them figure it out on their own. It’s—”

“If you say ineffable, I swear, I’ll…I’ll pinch you!” He lunged up to make his threat more real, and then, started tickling Aziraphale anyway.

“But I didn’t say it! I didn’t say it!” squealed Aziraphale.

“No, but this is so much more fun than talking about humans!” Crowley laughed, gleefully. Then he rested his head on Aziraphale’s stomach. He smiled, large yellow eyes blinking slowly. The smile that always made Aziraphale’s stomach flip flop. “I don’t know about humans, but I do know what’s in your future.

Aziraphale smiled, running his hands through Crowley’s hair. “And what is that, my dearest?”

“I see,” he murmured, twirling his fingers over Aziraphale’s belly as though it was a crystal ball, and going into a spooky, possessed voice that would have done Madame Tracy proud, “great pleasure, great happiness!”

“Oh? I have the second, in spades, my dear, all the time.”

“And, now I’m going to give you the pleasure,” Crowley said, crawling up Aziraphale’s body.

And in a few moments, neither of them were thinking about philosophy, humans, or her ineffable plan at all.

***

The erotic Tarot by Milo Manara--which I do own.

The Dog Tarot--which I covet.

AND, the Vertigo Tarot, by Dave McKean, featuring, of course, characters by none other than Mr. Gaiman himself: Sandman, Lucifer, Death, etc.

I am selling these, by the way. Let me know if you are interested.

**Author's Note:**

> This started because I have a tendency to twist myself around in bed so that my head is at the foot, and I realized that when I'm on my stomach I often cross my legs to shape a number four, and I could picture Crowley doing the same.


End file.
